


A Rat In a Cupboard

by Lorde_Shadowz



Series: Marauders' Heir [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cowed Dursleys, Family, Good Peter Pettigrew, Marauders, Pre-Hogwarts, Redeemed Peter Pettigrew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:53:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24620368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorde_Shadowz/pseuds/Lorde_Shadowz
Summary: Peter Pettigrew decides to do the right thing. It's a bit too late for the elder Potters, but not for Harry!
Series: Marauders' Heir [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926973
Comments: 7
Kudos: 69





	A Rat In a Cupboard

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This is a one-shot. However, I have an ongoing poll on my profile detailing all the stories that I may or may not publish, depending on interest. If you would like a sequel, either review or check out my profile and message me. Actually, please do that anyway, lol.

Peter Pettigrew could never, exactly, be called a good man. On the contrary, he was a rat, both figuratively and, sometimes, literally. He has hung about with the Mauraders in his youth, more often than not the butt of their jokes and the target of their bullying, because if he _wasn't_ in their group it would be worse, and a rat always knows how to survive. In time, when he left school, he joined the rising Dark Lord for the same reason; because it would be worse to go against him.

He had not wanted to be chosen as Secret Keeper. Oh, no, why would he? He did not like James, but Lily did not deserve to be vulnerable to the Dark Lord, nor did Harry. He couldn't tell them the real reason that he was refusing, but over and over he reiterated that he did not want the responsibility.

James laughed at him. He told him not to worry, said that everyone would think that the Secret Keeper was Sirius Black, as the Potters had agreed to tell everyone. He said that no one who has known Peter would expect that he was chosen, and Sirius would be a flawless decoy. Peter knew that the Dark Lord would know the truth, would get it out of him. He tried to argue further, but James had never listened to anything else he'd ever said, and this was no exception.

The Dark Lord did force it out of him- he'd never been able to manage occlumency. Peter was there with him when he blew down the door, when he struck James with a killing curse, when he blew down the door to the nursery. Peter trembled with revulsion as the pastel walls cracked with the spell fire, as Lily screamed and tried to protect the crib, as she fell soundlessly, as Harry wailed. But a rat does not come to the defense of another, and Peter simply stood there shaking.

And that was when the miracle happened: the Dark Lord cast a killing curse at Harry- Peter winced, unable to look away- and it bounced straight off, striking the Dark Lord in the chest. Voldemort crumpled soundlessly, surprise written all over his face. The boy was left wailing: "Unca Paddy! Unca Mooey!"

Peter felt sick. He had been the first to hold Harry, the first to change his nappy. Now he was the reason the boy was an orphan. This was his fault, all of it. But the boy continued to cry helplessly, and after a few moments Peter transformed back into a man, walked over, and picked him up and rocked him, as he would have his little sister, hardly knowing what he was doing. There was no telling how long he might have stood there, but just then there was a crash outside, and Peter hurriedly put Harry back in his crib, wrapping a blanket around him. Then he wormed his way into the folds, holding onto Harry's sleeve with his sharp little teeth. He might be too much of a coward to stand and protect him, but he wasn't going to just abandon him until he knew the boy was safe.

Peter was petrified with fear. Large footsteps, tromping up the stairs sent vibrations down his whiskers, and caused Harry to start up crying again. The boy squeezed Peter's tail tightly, but he winced and lay still- he deserved the pain. He lay still, too, as the author of the footsteps was revealed to be a blubbering Hagrid, who picked up Harry and the stowaway rat, blankets and all.

Peter shook with terror as Hagrid exchanged a few words with a distraught Sirius Black, and as he mounted the too-small enchanted motorcycle he'd borrowed, soaring across the sky, but the child only slept as they flew, tired from crying, one tiny hand clenched around a thick manilla envelope, stamped with the seal of Hogwarts; the other, Peter's tail.

The motorcycle landed long after Peter would have wanted to, and after a babbling of conversation (Peter recognized the voices as Dumbledore, Minerva Mcgonagall, and Hagrid at least) the child was set down on cool, gritty concrete, and retreating footsteps echoed in his ears. Peter Pettigrew poked his snout out of the blankets. What the Hell?

They'd left a baby old enough to toddle- Harry, specifically- outside on a doorstep on an October night with nothing but a packet of documents; not even so much as a warming charm! Peter's perception of Dumbledore changed forever.

There was no one watching. He could just slip away. But if he did that, what was to say that the child wouldn't just die, or be put in an orphanage by the inhabitants of the house he'd been left at? He would just have to stay here until Harry was found.

Peter Pettigrew was woken by a shrill screech, as the woman living in the house went out to get the milk and discovered her new charge. She pulled the letter roughly out of Harry's little hand, ripped it open, perused it for a minute, and then crashed back through the door screaming "Vernon!"

Peter hated her already. He was _not_ leaving Harry here alone! And, since he needed a place to stay anyway, why not? He could stay here- he didn't eat much in his rat form- and he could make sure the despicable muggle woman didn't mistreat Harry. And maybe, just maybe, he could make up for his terrible mistake.

And so it was that in ten years' time, a little boy with taped glasses and messy hair stepped onto the Hogwarts Express, a big smile on his face, to rejoin the world of his parents. He might have been a Wizarding boy, but for the clothes, for he could write with a quill and feed a thestral and mix up a potion with the best of them. And armed with stories of his parents and knowledge of Hogwarts, his 'Unca Wormy' balancing uncertainly on his shoulder, Harry Potter, AKA Prowl of the Marauders, found himself a compartment to ride to his destiny. Voldie wouldn't know what hit him.


End file.
